The street where Alex and I live is a little one-way residential jobber, running from mildly ghetto main thoroughfare to another mildly ghetto main thoroughfare. It's a quiet little island of divided-up run-down Victorians amidst a sea of public housing, bike shops, and Filipino markets. At least, this is what I tell myself.
And around 3 o'clock this morning, this was confirmed by a series of crashes, curses, and then a very loud, very aggrieved voice proclaiming "It's taking too damn long to get some crack around here!"
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